


Without You

by rightonthelimit



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting hit by a truck, Blaine is struggling for his life. Kurt is waiting for him to wake up, but a chance of him ever doing so is very unlikely…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

**A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**Without You**

Two weeks, three days, sixteen hours and thirty-four minutes it had been since Blaine had opened his eyes and looked at Kurt.

Since that time had passed Kurt had worn only 12 different outfits because fashion suddenly seemed so insignificant, drank only 2 cups of coffee by himself because coffee tasted bland without a conversation to discuss over it and had not sung once because there hadn't been any reason to. Kurt's hair was a mess from the times he had ran his hands through them and he had made it a habit to fall asleep in a sterile room with his head resting on someone's shoulder, someone who probably didn't even know he was there.

Kurt was only 20 years old, but he already felt jaded beyond his years. His fingers had grown stiff and achy from where they had been clutching another hand, but he still wouldn't let go because he had  _promised_  and promises were meant to be kept, especially between lovers because what would be the point in making promises without that ground rule anyways?

The room smelt like disinfectants and there was a steady beeping noise somewhere to his left, indicating that his lover was still alive, that steady  _beep beep beep_ quickly having become a source of comfort even if the sound would've been annoying to anyone else. The walls were white and so was the pillow Blaine's head rested upon – the darker skin of Blaine Anderson contrasted almost painfully with the entire room and with Kurt's own skin. Kurt had grown paler in this short amount of time, almost as pale as the sheets that covered Blaine's hospitalgown-clad body.

Kurt's mouth felt dry, as did his lips, but he still didn't get up to get himself something to drink just in case something would happen. Even if nothing would – nothing  _had_ happened ever since they had brought Blaine here. His face was still bruised up, but healing, and his ribs were still fractured and his lungs were barely healing as well. His legs and one of his wrists was broken, and his neck was damaged as well. Blaine's survival was not a given. And if he would, there was a huge chance of Blaine being paralyzed or worse - brain damage.

Kurt's eyes were half lidded – the steady ticking of the clock being one of his main points of focus. He kept counting the seconds that passed by, kept checking the heart monitor to see if anything went wrong, kept focusing on the rise and fall of Blaine's chest. He was in a coma, but Kurt pretended he was asleep instead, and that he'd soon open his eyes and make a playful comment or say something cheesy like he would when he would catch Kurt staring. That his lips would curl up into that smile Kurt loved so dearly.

Kurt reached into his pocket, uncapped his chapstick with his teeth and moistened Blaine's lips with a sad smile on his face before brushing one of his soft dark curls from his eyes. His own lips were trembling and he just  _knew_  it already even if he was so desperately trying to fight it. He  _felt_ it, and sensed it coming even if it broke his heart, his entire soul with all that he had.

He didn't dare to say it out loud because that would make it more real but Kurt somehow just knew that Blaine wouldn't be okay after this. How could he, after being hit by a  _truck_? It should've been Kurt lying in this bed and Kurt would do anything to switch places with Blaine. Blaine didn't deserve any of this – he was too much of a good person to actually have this happened to him. Hadn't they already gone through enough? And even if Blaine would wake up – Kurt could no longer speak of a  _when_ -, would Kurt be capable of giving him everything he needed? He would never let Blaine go, ofcourse, he would never abandon him, but he just… he was so afraid of losing him.

'I love you,' Kurt whispered brokenly, and he pressed a kiss against each of Blaine's knuckles. When he ran out of them, he simply kissed the back of Blaine's hands, turned the appendages up so his palms were facing upwards and continuing there. His heart just ached so much because this was all Kurt's  _fault_  – if he hadn't dropped his phone, if he hadn't seen it lying there on the road he would've never bent down to pick it up, Blaine would never had to hurry across the street to shove Kurt away from the truck that Kurt had been stupid enough to oversee, he would've never made Blaine cross the street and fucking  _trip_ over his own shoelaces and-

'I am so sorry, so,  _so_ sorry,' Kurt whispered, 'it's all my fault, I am so sorry, please forgive me Blaine, please be okay, just open your eyes and say something  _stupid_  like you always do and I just can't make it, not  _without you_ …'

Kurt stopped talking and a sob escaped his lips. Blaine remained unresponsive and the lack of response when Kurt was reaching out to him only made things a million times worse. Blaine had  _never_  not comforted Kurt when he needed it. Kurt fisted Blaine's sheets and closed his eyes tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strain he was putting on them.

This just wasn't how things had been supposed to go, it just  _wasn't!_ It wasn't fair and Blaine had barely finished school and Blaine had missed three auditions already and this just  _wasn't_ okay! This wasn't supposed to happen to Kurt because he was in new York with his lover and they were supposed to live happily ever after!

Kurt ignored the hot tears rolling down his cheeks and released a shaky breath, trying to calm his heart, his nerves. And he tried to focus on the fact that Blaine was still alive, honestly he was. But each day that passed just made it more unlikely for Blaine to wake up and what if he never would? What if Kurt would stay here, grow old, while Blaine remained trapped in his own body?

He just longed for Blaine's embrace. It had already been too long – how was he supposed to survive living his entire life without Blaine when he had barely been capable of missing him for a year when he had left Ohio? He sat up a bit straighter and pressed a kiss against Blaine's forehead, kissing down to that small bump on his nose, down to his lips…

Kurt had never kissed Blaine like this. Blaine had always been responsive and passionate while kissing Kurt, or just smiling playfully against his lips, but now…

Kurt pulled away and brushed off the tears that had landed on Blaine's cheeks and stared at him – stared at how this was his lover, yet  _wasn't_ at the same time. Blaine had never looked this weak and he had never let Kurt down before and he had never  _not_ reacted to Kurt in some way. A childish part of Kurt just wanted to believe that this was all a sick joke, but it wasn't.

Blaine would never do this to him.

He nosed his way down to Blaine's adam's apple and pressed a kiss against it, wishing he could feel it bob because Blaine had to swallow down a soft gasp. But Blaine just kept breathing, in out, in out. Nothing changed. He still remained in this state, completely unaware of Kurt, no matter what Kurt would do or say.

'I love you so much, you have no idea…' Kurt said and those stupid tears were welling up in his eyes again, but he just couldn't keep them from falling. He was already a mess like this, what if…? Kurt shook his head to himself and got up, pressing his body tightly against Blaine's and resting his head carefully on Blaine's shoulder. He lifted Blaine's arm up and pretended that things were okay, for a moment. He took another shaky breath and brought a hand up to rest on Blaine's chest, fisting the fabric of his hospitalgown and it bunched up a bit.

'You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine and then we're gonna get you a role in a play, and before you know it you're a Broadway star. You were  _made_ for greatness, made for-' Kurt stopped talking and swallowed a lump that was suddenly forming in his throat.  _Made for me,_ he had wanted to say, because he firmly believed that they had been created solely for the purpose of completing each other and making a difference in this world together. He closed his eyes and imagined their future together, imagined what they'd do when Blaine would get out of the hospital…

And he had to keep hope, he knew. Blaine would never openly let him down...

The machines suddenly started beeping loudly, and Kurt pulled up with a gasp, his wide eyes shooting to the heart monitor instantly. It took the doctors only seconds to rush in when Kurt started calling for help.

'What's going on?' Kurt said, voice desperate and almost insane. The doctors didn't reply and just tried to usher him out of the room.

'Sir, you need to-'

'Blaine? Blaine! No, you can't, you have to help him please just help him!' Kurt moved forward but the doctors were in his way, obscuring Kurt's view on Blaine's face, and other doctors were rushing in with defibrillators and Kurt's world just _stopped_  at the sight of them. Dread filled his chest and he started calling Blaine's name again, but neither Blaine nor the doctors replied and arms wound around Kurt's waist and Kurt kicked and screamed, and when he turned around he rained weak punches on a chest that felt so familiar but he couldn't _place_ it right now, because blind panic was going through him and  _this was not supposed to happen!_

'Get him out of the room, I can't work like this!' one of the doctors snapped and Kurt was forced out of the room. He desperately tried to stay, but whoever was pulling him away was bigger and stronger than him and Kurt didn't have to see to know that it was his father. When they were outside Kurt struggled again and when his father's arms wound around him he pressed his face into his neck, crying and releasing heart wrenching sobs.

'Clear!' the doctors called, and a strange peeping noise reached Kurt's ears. Kurt didn't have to look to know they were reanimating Blaine and his head just got tucked into his father's neck while he ushered him further away, and Kurt was still protesting, and when they finally stopped Kurt raised his head and brushed the tears away.

He was hoping, but he knew it was futile. When the doctor apologetically shook her head, Kurt almost sank through his knees. He looked into Blaine's hospital room and saw the doctors pulling up a sheet to cover Blaine's face.

_Blaine is dead._

Blaine is dead and all horrible things Kurt had been feeling just disappeared, to be replaced by nothingness. He could barely remember what happened next – when he was home he didn't know how he had gotten there and he didn't know who had made the cup of coffee in his hands.

There were only three words in his mind, three words he could focus on and three words that he had hoped to never hear combined into one sentence. Three words that indicated that he would never be complete again, three words that ended all plans he had for the future. Three words that completely contradicted everything Blaine had ever told him because they had been supposed to be  _young forever_ , hadn't they? Those three words couldn't be true because Blaine had promised him these things, he had told him what their future would be like, and yet…

Blaine is dead.

_Blaine is dead._

Kurt's lover, his boyfriend, his other  _half_  had died, and he would never be complete again.

* * *

After Blaine died, Kurt had indeed never been the same.

He laughed, he cried, he loved, he lived, he sang, but it wasn't with passion anymore. It wasn't that he didn't want to do those things anymore, but they had turned bland somehow, like there was nothing special about anything anymore.

Every time he ordered a cup of coffee, he ordered another one and placed it across the table. Whenever someone would ask if the seat was taken he said it was, even if the person he was waiting for never came and his absence made the coffee ordered for him grow cold, untouched.

Kurt grew stronger through the years of course, and as time passed he didn't cry anymore when someone told him he should move on. Instead he nodded, silently knowing that it wouldn't be do much good to discuss this with them and acknowledging that he wasn't the same and never would be, not without Blaine.

The first year that had followed after Blaine's death had been the hardest, but sometimes Kurt pretended Blaine wasn't gone. Sometimes he still waited, after getting home early, for Blaine to come home as well. To hear him stumbling over Kurt's shoes because Kurt was used to placing them in the hallway and Blaine wasn't. Kurt didn't get rid of Blaine's clothes against what everyone else advised him. Sometimes Kurt just locked himself up in their closet and breathed Blaine in, sometimes before going to bed he arranged his toothbrush with Blaine's so it would seem like Blaine had just finished brushing his teeth. Sometimes he sprayed Blaine's cologne on himself so it would seem like Blaine had been embracing him and that the scent had rubbed off on him.

These were little things that had made life more bearable; in a way it was more real to Kurt than reality was because  _he_ had been the one to create the lie. This was Kurt's reality and had become Kurt's life.

The songs Blaine had once sung were songs that Kurt would sometimes listen to, but not a lot in fear that the sound of Blaine's voice ringing in his ears would be replaced by the voice of the original singer of the song. Sometimes Kurt called Blaine's cellphone just to hear his voice when he said a simple 'This is Blaine Anderson, please leave a message after the beep and I'll call you back'. Kurt left a message, every time he called. Blaine never called back.

Kurt became a famous Broadway star by age 27, just like he had always wanted. Seasons passed, the list of shows he played the main roles in kept getting longer, the amount of money on his bank account getting bigger and bigger. Yet he never moved away from the small apartment he had moved into when he had been a poor student and hadn't been capable of affording anything fancier. Even if the walls had holes in them, the wallpaper was coming down and the springs were getting through the mattress and poked him uncomfortably in his back. Even if the floorboards creaked impossibly loud when Kurt walked on them.

It was the bed he slept upon where Blaine and he had made love to one another, where they had whispered sweet nothings and promises to one another, where they had told one another that they had been  _it_  for each other. It was the bed where Kurt now slept alone in and dreamt of hazel eyes and black curls falling gently on a tanned forehead, lips pressing against his own and hands clutching him so desperately it had nearly ached.

When Kurt turned 50, he had already a cabinet full of awards. He had adopted a child at age 30, and raised him to be a fine young man whom he had given the world and all the love he could manage. Kurt had never taken on another lover. He had tried to will himself to do so, but he hadn't been capable of touching another man. Not like that. Not if it wasn't Blaine.

Kurt died peacefully in his sleep when he was 83. The world spoke of a loss for Broadway, Hollywood and the entire music industry, and all who Kurt left behind was his– their, no matter what people had said Blaine  _was_ his father as well - son, who had just become a grandfather himself and a few of his closest friends.

* * *

When Kurt opened his eyes again, he was lying on a field of grass. He felt rested, more rested than he had felt all these years, and his back didn't feel sore at all. He rose his hands to his face and stared at them in wonder – seeing how they were void of wrinkles of the small scars he had gotten through the course of life and how clear he could see without the use of glasses. He touched his nose as if checking if they were there, but they weren't. When his fingers slid over his nose and the rest of his face all he felt was smooth skin.

He was young again.

Kurt pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around himself, but all he saw was grass and trees and a blue sky. It felt like reality, yet it wasn't at the same time. It was a lot like the lie Kurt had created for himself only more real. More genuine and pure.

Hearing someone calling his name, Kurt's head perked up. He squinted a bit when the sun stung in his eyes and he lifted a hand to block the light, having difficulty seeing much past his own hand. Someone was getting closer and closer to him, looming over him until he was shading Kurt from the sun.

Kurt stared up, and he pressed a hand against his mouth when he recognized the messy mop of dark hair he had ran his hands through 63 years ago for the last time.

 


End file.
